


Fur Analiese

by midoritakamine



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Orchestra, F/F, Nyotalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 09:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10331618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midoritakamine/pseuds/midoritakamine
Summary: Analiese wants to be the pianist for her school theatre's play. Too bad for her there's another girl auditioning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to Julie for making me adore these piano lesbians as much as I do. I'm sorry this took so long and ended up different than what I originally planned, but I love it and I hope you do too!
> 
> Analiese: Roderich  
> Evelin: Eduard  
> Daniel: Elizabeta  
> Julchen: Gilbert  
> Monika: Ludwig

Analiese rarely ties her hair in any way that isn’t elegantly, slightly curled with the loose strands not captured by her amethyst-encrusted clip tumbling across her shoulders. Whilst she is a lady and ladies must always appear proper, playing the piano with her hair tied back has always been something she disliked. She couldn’t say she hated it, as ladies do not hate, but she insists that her creativity is held back in the same way her hair is. Creativity must flow, and must be allowed freedom to roam one’s environment, engulf one’s heart and soul and body until melodies and symphonies float off the tips of one’s fingers and onto the keys of the piano.

Today is not a symphony day.

Playing in her high school orchestra has never been a choice. It has always been a requirement. Her mother never dictated what she must or mustn’t do in regards to her classes, just that she picks an instrument and sticks with it. Analiese took the advice a bit too far, as now she plays both the piano and violin. Her one true musical love remains the former, however love is fickle and today is no exception to that.

The keys are almost mocking her. Analiese’s lips purse, the fingers of her left hand drumming on her thigh as she stares down at the keys. She has an hour of practice before auditions for the theatre’s play open up. She doesn’t intend on getting a part in the play; no, her goal rests in winning the coveted role of musical assistance via piano. It isn’t so much a goal as is a typical teenager’s definition of life and death. If she does not land the role, she might as well set aflame the piano in her home’s foyer. Practicing nearly all of her seventeen years of life only to  _ not _ get such a simple part as high school theatre’s pianist? Ridiculous.

She would not be so worried if she had been the only pianist in the orchestra. Nobody else could audition, and she would automatically land the part. No, heaven forbid she get such an easy path in life! The drumming on her thigh gets faster and faster until her other hand slams down on the keys and an awful sound erupts from her instrument.  _ Of course _ she cannot be the only pianist in this silly excuse for an orchestra. There just had to be another pianist auditioning.

Analiese doesn’t know much about her, just that her name is Evelin, they’re both seventeen, and her competitor has the messiest bun in existence. Has this girl never seen a comb before? Certainly she must have, as she’s always scrolling through her phone in class. It’s hard to not roll her eyes at this. Evelin can’t pay attention in class, but she can audition for such an extremely important role for the theatre. This makes perfect sense.

Her entire body shudders. Rolling her neck a bit to loosen the muscles, she waves her fingers before resting them atop the keys. Her playing begins nicely, but the nagging thought of having her hair tied back for appearances (first impressions are gravely important in auditioning) makes her right middle finger twitch and hit the wrong note. Next her left ring finger messes up, followed by her left index, right middle again, right index, left middle, left ring…

She isn’t aware she nearly shouts her frustrations until a girl’s voice asks her, “You okay there? You seem upset.” Analiese almost jumps off the bench from surprise, retracting her arms against her chest. She’s keenly aware she looks like a defensive, startled cat and likewise probably incredibly ridiculous, but the girl in the doorway doesn’t appear to be one for appearances either. With an annoyed huff, Analiese realizes the girl that startled her has a messy bun, jeans, and a smartphone sticking out of the pocket.

Curtly, she says, “No, not at all. I’m alright, Evelin. Do not get yourself worked into a tizzy over me. We do have auditions in an hour.” The end of her sentence comes out roughly, almost aggressively, but she controls it. Ladies are not aggressive, even to the competition. Ladies always keep their class about them.

Except for ladies like Evelin, apparently.

Evelin steps inside the orchestra room, dropping her bookbag in front of the wind instruments. She takes a seat in one of the chairs and crosses her ankles, watching Analiese over the rim of thick black glasses. If she had to label her fashion sense, Analiese would call her a messy discount rack concoction. Her friend Daniel is the same, and if the comparison holds true telling Evelin to dress better will only result in a snort and waved hand. She doesn’t care to find out.

“Do you need something from me?”

“No.”

Analiese narrows her eyes. “Then leave.”

Evelin smiles. “Nah.”

“Why not?”

“I wanna see you practice.” The words are simply, complimentary even, and they cause a warmth to rise in Analiese’s chest. If there is one thing she takes pride in, it’s her skill as a pianist. Everybody compliments her on how good she is, from her mother to Daniel to Julchen (though the latter she could bare to never hear speak again, the horrid scratchy tone to Julchen’s voice making Analiese’s sensitive artist’s ears hurt). No matter how much praise she receives, though, it still gets a joyful, flustered rise out of her which Evelin seems to pick up on based on how her smile turns into a smirk.

The smirk makes something twist in Analiese’s gut. “Well,” she starts nervously, “thank you, I suppose. I love an audience, but not when the audience is my competition. I don’t want you to learn about me and thus learn how to outdo me.”

“Outdo you? In an hour?” Evelin uncrosses her ankles and stands. She doesn’t move from where she is though. “I doubt I could outdo you in twenty four hours. No, make that twenty four years.”

Analiese turns on the bench so that she faces Evelin a bit more, putting less strain on her neck. “Why would you say that?”

“Piano is a hobby for me.”

She tugs on one of her loose curls, flingers threading through the strands of hair. “Hobby? Piano is my hobby as well.”

Evelin laughs under her breath, finally moving until she stands about a foot from the bench Analiese sits on. “Let me correct myself,” she says light-heartedly, “my hobby is not a lifetime dedication to the craft. I just play because it’s fun.” Her right shoulder lifts as a sort of half-shrug. “Plus, I need some musical accompaniment for my covers.”

“Covers? Like bed sheets?” Her response must be dumb because Evelin covers her mouth to keep from laughing, which makes Analiese visibly flush pink. “Hey, don’t laugh! I didn’t understand what you meant.”

Instead of responding, Evelin pulls out her phone and messes around for some odd seconds. Once she finds whatever it is she’s looking for, she motions for Analiese to scoot over. Warily, she does and Evelin sits in the vacated space on the bench next to her. Their knees brush briefly, jean on bare skin, and the burning in Analiese’s gut from before reignites. She doesn’t know why, and she has no time to contemplate why before Evelin tilts the phone on its side and presses play on a video.

The video is slightly grainy which Evelin apologizes for three different ways in ten seconds, but Analiese glances at her to silently tell her to shush so she can listen. Despite the video camera’s picture quality, the sound comes out clearly as it echoes in the orchestra room. In the frame, Evelin sits at a modestly-sized piano, more a keyboard than anything but the sounds are more in tune with a grand piano than a keyboard, in what appears to be a bedroom; on the walls behind her hang nerdy posters and the foot of dark blue sheets peek into the bottom right corner. Evelin’s hair is freed from its bun and it sits messily, somewhat tangled, brushing over the shoulder left bare from the clearly oversize shirt she’s wearing. Despite her appearance, she seems confident as she plays, her eyes falling shut and rendering the sheet music propped in front of her useless.

For five minutes the video plays, Evelin calmly pressing the keys and even humming under her breath. The camera angle never changes, leading Analiese to conclude this was shot on a tripod while Evelin was either home alone or in the company of people who didn’t mind her playing. Then again, who could mind such beautiful music? She hates to admit it, but Evelin’s playing might just be up to her well-trained standards. If Evelin can live up to the unspoken standards of an unofficial professional such as Analiese, they must be able to hold up at say, a high school theatre’s auditions. Her gut clenches and the worry of defeat drifts even further into her mind, threatening her imagined success. As mad as she wants to be at Evelin for being such a good pianist, she cannot bring herself to dislike good music no matter its producer.

The Evelin from the present lowers the phone and tucks some hair behind her ear. She’s chewing on her bottom lip and wearing such an expectant look. When Analiese doesn’t reply, she laughs and says, “Wow, I must’ve sucked for you to look at me like that.”

Before she can stop herself, Analiese rapidly shakes her head. “Goodness no! Evelin, your music is wonderful. Was that-?”

" _Fur Elise_ , yes,” interrupts Evelin. The fingers that tucked hair behind her ear now play with the ends of it, twisting and rolling it. If she isn’t mistaken, Analiese spots a tinge of pink in her face. “I know you happen to enjoy that composition, so I decided to show you that video.”

Analiese mirrors her and begins playing with her own hair. “You knew? I don’t recall ever saying-”

“In class, when the teacher asked us our favorite pieces. You listed so many of Beethoven’s that everybody’s heads began to spin.” She giggles, and the sounds is almost as intoxicating as the piano she plays. Analiese gets a sinking in her gut unlike the one from before. “You said  _ Fur Elise _ is your absolute favorite because your mother named you after it.”

Surprised is the best way Analiese finds to describe how she feels. All the years she and Evelin have been in the same orchestra classes, all the years she dismissed her as a techno-babbling lazy girl who only took the class for an easy A, all the times she’s caught sight of her on her phone during class, all of this and here Evelin is telling Analiese things about her that she didn’t know anybody else knew. She doesn’t know when she spouted off about Beethoven in class (to be fair, she spouts off about him often to Julchen and Monika who futily  _ insist _ he is German), or when she told her classmates that her name is a variation on Elise, or when she stated her mother named her after the piece.

“When did I ever say any of this?”

Evelin excuses herself and stands up from the bench, sticking her phone back in her pocket. She remains silent as she collects her backpack and slings it on. She stops in the doorway despite what Analiese presumes to be her haste, and she turns around halfway. Even from a distance, she spots a fluster in Evelin’s cheeks which in turns makes Analiese’s face light up. She avoids eye contact for a solid fifteen seconds before she side-eyes her.

“You didn’t,” Evelin admits, “I just… I saw it online.” Her eyes squeeze shut and she spins on her heel and out the door. Analiese opens her mouth to protest, but she’s interrupted by a rushed, “Good luck at auditions!” and the door sliding shut.

Stupidly, Analiese stares at the door. Her hand floats uselessly in the air in the direction Evelin fled, and it takes a few seconds before it dawns on her how silly she looks, as if she’s an abandoned princess watching her dear prince abandon her. The comparison rings ridiculous after she thinks it. She is no princess, and Evelin is no prince. Neither of them are royalty, and yet…

Analiese looks at the instrument before her. She blinks, taking notice of a paper left carelessly on the rack for sheet music. Daintily she grabs it and brings it close enough that she can read the hurried, messy scrawling on the page.

_ Let your hair down for the audition. You play so much better, and you look so much prettier _ .


End file.
